


Where the Water Tastes Like Wine

by C4LIC4T



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Dirk and Jake take a vacation, Domestic af, Gentle, Gentle and sweet, Horses, I wanna be a cowboy baby, M/M, They need it, cowboystuck, marble mountain wilderness, soft, specifically boulder peak if youre wondering, ultimate self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4LIC4T/pseuds/C4LIC4T
Summary: Dirk and Jake in their own little getaway.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Where the Water Tastes Like Wine

Loud thunder, heavy rain. The windows chatter in their tracks, the water on your nightstand visibly moving in its glass as another flash lights your room like midday sun. The body beside you stirs some, burrowing deeper into the heavy wool. You haven’t hardly slept in three days and the burn inside your eyes and the pinpricks of pain at each hair strand is keeping you awake now. You’re used to thunderstorms, but this one feels different. Heavier, somehow. The only thing separating you from the chaos outside is the time-worn wood this cabin offers and the glass you’re sure is older than you and Jake combined. However that works, considering you made this world. The room flashes white again, and your eyes burn with the light. 

This isn’t what you had intended when you drug your boyfriend to what the advert proclaimed was the most authentic cowboy experience on the planet. You knew it wouldn’t be the same as your home, or even Dave’s version of Texas. Earth C simply didn’t have the same advantages and bias to create the violent, hard lives the Beta and Alpha Earths cowboys endured. This patch of paradise planet wouldn’t dare host shootouts over a shot of whiskey. You found yourself for months watching old westerns with Jake, John, and Dave. Karkat sometimes tagged along, but didn’t seem to enjoy them as much as everyone else.

Now, mid July, you’re bunked down in one of the worst storms you’ve ever experienced on this planet. You don’t know exactly what time it is, but it’s neither early enough or late enough for you to get anything productive done. You’re in a small, worried cabin on the outskirts of the human kingdom. The mountains rise up around you like the edges of a salad bowl, and you can see the glint of the lake as lightning flashes further away this time. Maybe the center of this storm is moving off your supposed sanctuary. The blankets scratch at your legs when Jake moves again, pulling the wool off you to himself. He stirs some at the next flash, and reaches idly for you. A hand finds your hip and he pauses, broad hand spreading to cover a good portion of your stomach. It winds itself over the top of you and he pulls himself to hang onto you. He hums softly before settling back in to hold you tight against himself. He’s almost too warm, the well started stubble of his cheeks is rough against your side. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, idly scratching at his scalp as you ride out the storm. The heavy thrum of bass-like thunder was keeping your heart beating enough to keep you awake. Once it mellows into the rhythmic noise of thick rain dribbling from the tin roof you start to drift. You rest, some, sitting upright with your back cold against the wood headboard. The sun comes up and the storm eases to a meager rumble in the distance. Light peaks through the dainty curtains protecting the privacy inside the cabin’s walls from the eyes of the creatures that lived outside. The dark clouds hang heavy over the valley, cracked like old paint with sun bleeding through. It doesn’t ever get that warm edge to it the way you’re used to. 

By the time you can rouse Jake enough to untangle yourself, it’s mostly light outside in a cool grey light. You can see the trees stretching out into infinity and the soft glimmer of the lake at the lowest point of this valley. Somewhere to your left you hear the idle noises of the horses you’d borrowed to ride up into one of the most rural parts of the planet. Your feet hit the floor and you stretch upwards. The girls had insisted on sending you only with old school attire, and you shimmy into heavy denim and leave the button up unbuttoned as you start your day. You’re starting to feel a little disconnected from your body like this and you lose yourself for some amount of time in building a small fire in the ornately decorated wood stove in the corner of the cabin. The grit of ash and soot beneath your feet grounds you. You scratch a match against the gritty iron of the stove, thin matchstick nearly snapping under your fingers as you drag it across. It lights up at the end of the stroke with a faint flash of pink. You toss it into the pine ribbons you stuffed under the wood. Fire curls around it, wisps of smoke curling around the door as you close it most of the way. You watch the fire crackle to life, engulfing the thankfully dry wood. Once it’s burned the kindling and started to scorch the larger pieces of wood, you put a couple more pieces in, building a tighter fire. The metal is still cool to the touch as you lean your palms against the top.

The air is crisp and clean, cut with the petrichor the storm left behind. The setting feels almost too much like a movie to be real. Early mornings don’t always feel real when you’ve been lacking in sleep as much as you are right now. The metal beneath your hands starts to be too warm to lean against. You take a deep breath and revel in the gentle soreness in your muscles from a different kind of work. Not the sword swinging training or the tomb raiding. You're thousands of feet up in the mountains astride chubby horses that lurch and make your body move in a way you weren’t used to. 

When the heat starts to soak into your bones, you go through the motions of brewing coffee. This gets Jake moving, and while things are idle and you’re just waiting you watch him get dressed. He’s ruggedly handsome, having been out of the normal bustle of things for long enough now that he often forgets to shave, and he has the beginnings of a tan creating highlights and shadows over his effortless muscle. It never took him much to have smooth muscle definition, and as he aged and broadened it just looked better. He’s shrugging his shirt over his shoulders and you whistle lowly at him. He whips around, a little offended and a hot flush coming to his cheeks. You chuckle at him and he huffs slightly at you. It never gets old, teasing him a little bit in the morning. He knows you love him dearly now, and his offense is playful most days. He finishes getting dressed, lazily rounding the narrow bed and wrapping his arms around your waist. Jake’s hands are warm and broad against your waist, and his coarse face is gently pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Good mornin, love. Quite the light show last night, hm?” His voice is scratchy with morning, and it makes your heartbeat quicken as he rocks you slowly into his arms. You nod and make your body relax into him. He sways to the music in his heart, and a horse snorts outside the window to your right. The people out here were outcasts, obsessed with the old way of life. You’re starting to figure out why they’re out here instead of crammed into the cities and suburbs. Jake weaves his fingers in between yours. You casually spin yourself to face him and you’re, as always, struck with how beautiful he is. His eyes are like a jungle and his smile like the radio, and he looks at you with the most honest expressions. The coffee bubbles behind you, filling the dimly lit cabin with the heat from the stove and the full, rich scent of fresh coffee. Jake is humming softly, still swaying to the song in his head. Your chest fills with his warm light and suddenly the dullest of mornings is worth waking up to. You’re awestruck by how just the simplest of things can make him light up the room like the star he is, twinkling with the radiant hope he’s hardly aware of. The heat against your back from the stove and the gentle toughness of Jake’s hands guide you into Jake’s little dance, his body swallowing you into the easy bliss of the simplicity here. Worth every missed opportunity in the buzz of the city.

You look at him like the stars that shine in the endless Texas sky, all around you and making you feel safe. You could never be lost when you can see where to go so clearly. You lean into Jake and sneak a kiss to his scruffy chin. He tips his chin down and swings you into a soft kiss. You’re overwhelmed with the warmth that floods into your body at such a chaste gesture of intimacy. Your heart swells and your head clears out of all the thoughts that plagued you all night and into the morning. You smile into his mouth and he laughs at you gently. He lets you step back, a hand moving from around your waist to thread his fingers in the hair at the side of your head as he holds your face. You lean your head into his hand and sigh contentedly. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be high in the mountains with your boyfriend and three horses that somehow are totally fine packing around two bumbling gay idiots who’d never ridden a horse before. You’ve been here, what, a month now? 

Jake draws away to start making breakfast. Your skin tingles where his hands were, and you watch him gather things from around the room. The heavy cast iron pan jolts you into action as it grates across the top of the stove. You move out of the way, pouring your first of many cups of strong coffee. In minutes, the smell of cured pork belly sizzling back to life fills the cabin and you slip to the front door. You pull on the now broken in cowboy boots Roxy had gifted you. You blow Jake a kiss as you slip out the door and button up your shirt as you look out at the clearing sky. It’s going to be a great day, you decide, and you’re met with the soft nickering of the horses as you round the corner of the cabin. You squeeze between the bars of the fence, met with intruding noses and have to gently push your way between them. You dish out some of the hay left in the shed into the trough and top it off with the sticky, sweet grain coated in molasses. You’re picking twisted blades of grass out of your hair idly when you walk back to the cabin.

Jake meets you on the front porch, setting a tin plate down on the little table next to a strong cup of coffee. You’re still not over how at-home he looks in this setting. You wish you could take a picture and have it show how he looks to you. Ruggedly handsome, but still soft featured in some ways. The gentle curve of his broad shoulders and softening chest and stomach just under a pale green western shirt with ivory buttons catching the light as the clouds wane. Dave would know how to capture it. You sit at the little table and stick your fork in a soft potato, the grease from the pork belly making a thin skin of crispy golden brown. You reach across the table and cross your fork with Jake’s. 

“Dig in, handsome, it’s a good day to go ride.” You catch the slight texan accent slipping into your words, and Jake beams at you. You chat about the best routes to take and the potential weather you might run into. The lake winks at you as the sun finally opens up at the cheek of the mountain. You swear you can see a sparkle in Jake’s eyes.

“Any day’s a good day to explore with you Dirk.” Your chest flutters with what Dave teasingly told you was butterflies. You’ve come to accept that it just strikes you when you’re reminded how stupidly head over heels you are. You sop your biscuit into the grease on your plate as you finish up your breakfast. Jake gathers up the dishes and fuck, this is so god damn domestic. Anyone else can eat your ass before you’d admit to how sappy your thoughts are. Jake’s hope lights up your day. It makes your heart sing with what you can best describe as content heat. You gather yourself up and get back to where the horses are, brushing your hand across each horses silky coat. 

You halter each of them individually and go through the motions of brushing them up and tacking up for a ride. The smell of horse sweat and leather is incredibly comforting to you now. It took a short while to warm up to it, but it surely didn’t hurt that you’ve grown to love a lot of the sights and smells of these mountains. You miss some of the conveniences of the city, but the mountains brought you the most peace you’ve known in likely the entirety of your life. The storm was an exception, chilling your bones in a way that reminded you of how the ocean swayed your apartment in the ocean before the game. You know you’re getting side tracked because Jake is at your side in a minute, smoothing the thick wool pad on the second horse. You find yourself lifting the heavy leather saddle over the horse's shoulders, setting it down smoothly and gently. You lift the pad slightly to free space for the swing in a horse's shoulder while he walks. You’ve learned a lot since being here and you revel in that. The old ways on this planet appeal to you so much more than they used to. You roll the latigo through the saddles rings, and tighten it slowly. Once you’re satisfied, you bridle up and throw some extra hay to the smaller horse you intended to leave behind. After a second check on each horse, you swing aboard. Jake had packed something shiny away in the saddle bags over the cantle.

Once you’re out the gate, you orient yourself with the highest peak on the mountains around you. You nudge your horse forward and Jake is right behind you, bumping the pretty gelding forward to match your pace. The trail stretches out in front of you in a clear manner, the grey stone giving way to the native flora and plant life. The trees engulf the sight of the cabin behind you in a short time, the nature of this valley isolating you from any notion of other humanity or other life. You know the animals of this planet didn’t get the time to evolve the same way they did back on Earth but you feel oddly small here. Small enough you no longer feel like the creator you are, the responsibilities of being one washing away at the rhythmic sound of four hooved feet making their way up the slowly inclining trail. Dainty yellow flowers pinprick the olive green ferns curling and climbing up the granite boulders that dotted the forest you were carefully weaving your way through. 

Massive trees, wider than your horse, dwarf you as the trail opens up to one side. It reveals the winding snake of a river to your right, the left side curving up in a steep cliff. The trail turns into a narrow path and you let your hands fall forward on the horses neck, laying the leather reins down so you could focus on keeping the forked end down and not off the side of the canyon. Your horse lowers his head and trucks along, setting a slow but steady pace up the trail. The mist from the storm last night clings to the mountains like an aura, catching the mornings light in shimmering rainbows and misting your face as the breeze wafts it at you gently. It chills you arounds your ears despite the inevitable heat of July on this stretch of the planet. You’d call it akin to John’s descriptions of Oregon from his version of Earth. Yours had been lost underwater at least a hundred years before you got there. The trail takes a sharp left, hugging the mountainside so close your foot brushes the stony outcropping. You’re jerked back to your thoughts at that. Luckily your horses didn’t need much direction, not that they could really go anywhere. The hoofbeats fall heavily and the steel shoes grate as the trail falls to a sharp downhill, then into a narrow stream. There is no way to avoid them getting in the water and Jake’s horse takes her time picking through the large flat rocks that look as though they were pushed straight up through the bottom of the ocean to reside here at the damn near peak of a mountain high above the city. Riding like this made it hard to talk and easy to think. Your horse had a single, narrow path ahead of him and you had a head full of thoughts to sort.

It catches your breath when you get to the summit of this mountain, Jake’s horse crowding yours to perch at the smallest of flat spots in the trail. This had been a strenuous climb, and even you, sitting in the saddle were feeling the weariness. Obviously you needed to work on reading a flat topographical map. The view made it worth it to you. Bare rock peaks create another bowl below you, trees only daring to crop up about halfway down and their scroungy appearance made it clear this was a hard place to live. Below that the sagebrush and dense foliage crowded the stone that had tumbled from the peaks. Small cerulean pools bundled together in the lowest parts of the valleys, bordered with lush meadows of mountain grass. The bent trunks of fallen trees are visible from here. 

Jake whistles softly and you think for half a moment to capture a snapshot. You say as much and your boyfriend reminds you of the film camera Dave had pushed into your hands with a stoic “have fun bro” and you knew he’d miss talking your ear off. He had Karkat now, though and you hastily push that thought to the back of your head. You twist idly and pull it out of the saddle bag on Jake’s horse. There’s only a couple pictures on it, you don’t always take it and you don’t want to ruin the moment you find yourself lost in, most of the time. Photography wasn’t your thing.

You fiddle with settings for a few seconds, framing your horse's black rimmed ears at the bottom. You can see the three lakes clearly, and the lines of sentiment from thousands, no, millions of years of this planet being underwater even through the vaguely hazy lens. You snap a picture with a hearty mechanical shutter, wind the film forward and take another of Jake as he flashes you a brilliant smile. Film cameras like this didn’t really lend themselves to many ironic selfies, and thus you refrain from doing so. Stashing it back in your saddle bag, you carefully cluck your tongue to your horse. He slowly edges forward, before smoothly settling back into a rhythm. You’re at the edge of the meadow in several steep switchbacks and shaley descents. 

When you’re in the shade of some low, leafy trees that your horse himself would barely fit below, you stop and swing off. Jake goes to climb off too, and you stop him. Abandoning your horse to catch his breath by himself, a single rein hanging to the ground to “tie” him, you set the camera on a rock and fiddle with the focus and settings. You call to Jake, telling him what you’re doing in fewer words than “stay put”. You jog in the worst way back to your horse, gently resting his heavy head on your shoulder. He’s sticky with sweat, lathered thoroughly at the breast collar and the edges of the thick wool pad. You hear the mechanical click of the shutter and hike back to it. This time Jake is off his horse, and stripping the saddle off her before you’re turned around. You snap another picture, the messy, hand styled black hair catching the filtered light through the thin cloud cover. The white of snow behind him in the recesses of the mountain blow your exposure out of balance, but you’re sure Dave can fix a too dark photo in the light room better than he can fix a blown out one. You snap a few more photos after you strip your horse and let him loose to cool off and graze the mountain meadow while Jake leans back against his saddle in the rocky “beach”. You fold yourself beside him, and his head drops to your shoulder. 

“I don’t think I want to go back to the city.” You say with a long sigh. You feel his head shift, and you push your shades up some to meet his eyes. He always looks something like a starstruck puppy when he sees your eyes. 

“And why’s that? Are you becoming something of a mountaineer Dirk?” His voice has some humor to it as his scruff prickles you through the thin cotton of your shirt. 

“Oh you wish I was as into the schtick as you are, English, but I will admit that I can’t say I’ve been this at ease before now.” The rhythm of horses grazing behind you and the clatter of their feet on the stone as they move are just background noise. The lake is just big enough to have a subtle wave to it, and the movement of the water is relaxing as all hell. You find yourself taking another deep breath and slinging an arm around Jake’s broad shoulders. 

“It surely is something up here isn’t it!” He starts, dazzling eyes turning to the valley of lakes. “It doesn’t compare to the island in some ways, but the adventure, the exploration. I missed it something fierce. It reminds me how small I am, that the problems that’ve been plaguing this ol’ boy are smaller than I remember them being.” 

That sounds about right to you, and your hand gently squeezes his shoulder. Despite all the mess you’ve gotten into, the problems you had with Jake in and after the game, he’d gotten it in his heart to forgive you somehow. He’d gotten you out of your own head long enough to talk things through. That was the impressive part. You’d worked into a schedule, then a routine, and now it just came second nature. Jake had things he wasn’t into anymore, coming to realize he’d thrown too much too early on. This time was slower. For all the media thrown out on himself and his body, he was happier in jeans and a baggy shirt at home. He was happy to not be recognised when there was an occasion to walk through the city. The excursion to the mountains that they kept extending surely would help with that in the long run. 

You nod when Jake stops talking and his hand catches your chin. It’s another chaste kiss, but it catches you off guard when he kisses you a second time, a lot harder. It’s not often that his sporadic affection gives you chills, especially when it’s such a gentle thing. This is one of those times. You feel your cheeks warming under his touch, and there’s a breathy laugh from him. Your eyes open to a truly radiant smile, and your own mouth curls instinctively into a slight smile. It can’t be helped, not when the hopefulness of the entire Jake English in front of you heats your insides like tendrils of some forgotten sea monster and squeezes your heart to pull it into the endless waves of his bright belief. It makes it hard to slide into your usual self deprecation and loathing when his golden light floods your veins like honey smoke. It’s heavier than what you’re used to, but in a good way. You’re drunk on his particular brand of goodness, and this time you just let it happen. You kiss him again, a hand resting gently on the coarse beginnings of a beard, fingers brushing just behind his jawbone, under his ear. The soft breath in he makes is enough to send you soaring, and he lightly catches your lower lip between his teeth. That makes you hitch your breath.

Wait. There’s no way in fuck you’re going to go at this in a pile of granite. A pile of granite with snakes and ants and plants of an unknown origin growing between the cracks. You pull back with the realization and Jake laughs at you. You twist your mouth into a playful scowl and turn your face away from him. You take your arm back to cross them across your chest in a fake pout. He playfully bumps his shoulder into you, and you sigh and slump into him. It always surprises you how easily you can fall into the playful teasing. 

The sun peeks through the clouds here and there as they spin themselves into thin threads and dissipate into a typical sunny July day. The heat starts to happen. What were you expecting some grandiose word for it? Not in this story, sorry. The tension slides out of you as Jake rests his arm on your shoulder and threads his fingers into the unstyled hair around your ears.

“I don’t think the city is too dreadful.” Jake starts, thumb worrying your hair slightly. “I think this is lovely, but I’m afraid we’ll have to go back eventually. Creators have some responsibilities don’t we? Business ventures left untended at the best.”

You hum softly in response, tipping your head into Jake’s chest. The soft warmth in his face was draining from his features thinking about going back. 

“I’m sure from the main house it’s just a transportalizer pad away, Jake. What’s stopping you from making communication harder on everyone else and only working a couple days a week and enjoying your time out here more permanently. You’ve already taken a full month away, what’s a more hands off approach going to hurt? The whole fuckin planet did just fine without us for what, several centuries?” This time Jake hums in agreement. He doesn’t fill in the space, but his fingers card through your hair as he’s idle in thought.

The sun slinks across the sky slowly, and the horses have worked their way along the shore to the space between two of the lakes, where you can just see them resting in the shade of a scruffy, low pine tree. You’ve spent the last couple of hours just basking in the warm, not hot sunshine. The heat doesn’t work the same this high in the mountains. You don’t think Earth C has the same kind of extremes as you’re used to anyways. It’s tamer, gentler. Less things are out to kill you. There’s no drones, the luscii aren’t threatened, and the native fauna aren’t as vicious. It’s heaven on earth, and sometimes part of you craves the thrill of something happening at all times. You still catch yourself scanning the horizon for drones, even though they never come. You catch yourself becoming complacent and unhappy in the mundane, happy life this planet has provided you. Jake shifts beside you and it brings you out of that web of thoughts. He’s up on his feet in an instant and you look to where he’s staring idly off to the west. 

It turns out to be nothing exciting, but you whistle for the horses. Their heads swivel lazily towards you and the mare starts picking her way carefully along the shore at a walk. The gelding is approximately four seconds behind. You meet them halfway around the smallest of the lakes, letting them follow you closer on the way back to where you’d shucked their tack off them. Before you start redressing them, you urge them down to the water where you gently splash some water at their backs and bellies to soften where their soft hair had turned stiff with salty sweat. You know from experience that the stiff hair is uncomfortable when you press down on it. You sweep your hand over your horses back as you hand Jake’s mare off to him. You tack up in quiet, murmuring soft praise to your horse when he doesn’t seem to mind the added gear to his body. You know he’s tired. You double check the tack on the other horse, and swing aboard in a smooth motion. Jake still struggles sometimes. 

You fish the camera out of the saddle bags again, snapping a quick picture or Jake half on his horse as her head swings around to bump her nose against his foot in gentle protest. You let him lead the way back. He’s humming, then singing an old song you haven’t ever heard. You laugh when he stumbles over the words he can’t remember, he does too. The tune is familiar, like you’ve heard it before, but you can’t place it.

By the time you’re back to the cabin you’re both exhausted, and weightless again. You’re not worried about what waits for tomorrow as you slick the sweat off the horses and carefully pour water over the sweat marks and slick it off again. They’re happily grazing the sparse summer grass outside their paddock while you tend them. 

You hear the shutter on the camera before you catch Jake with it pressed to his face. You make a sour face and he snaps another photo, so you playfully stick your tongue out at him. Click. It goes back and forth like that. Jake playing documentary narrator as you finish your chores and put the horses up, feed them, and head for the cabin. It’s blissfully warm inside from the cookstove, and you shed your shirt as you head in the door. Jake is right behind you, click. You toss your shirt to the chair beside the bed and fall dramatically back on the bed. It creaks under your weight, click. The mattress dips when he straddles your thighs, camera still pressed to his face. You place one hand idly on his thigh and watch him with a carefully disinterested expression stitched to your face. Jake’s frustration with your lack of cooperation comes in a soft raspberry as he leans over to put the camera safely on the nightstand. He bends softly to place a kiss to your forehead and falls to the side of you. 

You just sit like that for a short while, before you sit up and kick your boots unceremoniously towards the door. Jake follows suit, shucking his jeans and boots for the comfort of boxers and his newly unbuttoned shirt. You can’t help but feast on him as he mills idly. When he shucks his shirt and climbs into bed again, where you haven’t moved, he’s laying his head on your shoulder, pressing his head against yours. His scruffy hair tickles your cheeks and neck softly. You sigh in content. A free hand floats up to lightly cup his jawline, and he leans into it earnestly. This is a safe place for both of you. Your hand idly scritches at his stubble, the short hair feeling nice to your fingertips. He hums low, and you can feel it against your hand. For a while it’s just that. The room is getting dark, and the coolness of night time is starting to seep in the windows and under the door. Jake moves first, swinging into bed fully, instead of laying on it sideways. That’s your cue to lose your jeans and curl up into his heat and start the cycle over again come morning. You do so. Lips pressed gently to Jake’s forehead, then his cheek. You murmur a quiet ‘I love you’ which he returns in time, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. 

Sometimes, you think, taking a break from everything is what you need. Jake leans into your kiss some, and his hand weaves itself into your hair, tugging just right at the base of your neck. Your mouth lets out a breathy noise, and suddenly the curl of his lips in the faint evening light sends a shot of arousal to your mainline. You kiss him again and he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. His other hand is on your waist, guiding you into him and over the top until you’re sitting straddled over his hips. His hands are gentle but coarse against your skin, the month in the mountains recreating the gruffness of the island in his body. The sensation of his hands on your body sends your legs into gooseflesh, and his eyes are intense. You’re not sure if it's the appeal of the muleskinner aesthetic or if it's just because of how Jake does this to you. His hands draw lower, brushing smoothly over your hips and thumbing at the faint line of muscle and then drawing over the top of your thighs. You flex slightly under his hands and he squeezes you gently. You roll your weight back into his hips, and the slight catch in his breath spurs you on. 

You dip for a kiss, and Jake’s hands find themselves on your ass. He grabs hold and drags you forward. Your kiss misses and you find yourself scrabbling slightly to keep your weight off his chest. His mouth finds your neck effortlessly, a breathless chuckle rumbling underneath you. His facial hair is driving you nutty, and you breathe out a needy noise that you wish you hadn’t made. He latches onto the smooth curve where your neck and shoulder meet and you hiss slightly, elbows hitting the mattress as your hands tangle in his steadily more unruly hair. His mouth gapes when you tug and his fingers dig hard into your ass. You’re getting impatient. You force yourself back up, pulling Jake’s mouth free. 

Wiggling out of your underwear is harder than you care to admit, and Jake is watching you with the sudden lust drunkenness you have come to love seeing. With him sitting up against the headboard you can see the beginnings of a tent forming in his boxers. He’s not always in the mood for “spelunking” but when he is, he really is. You know your body is lighting up in all the right ways. 

Jake’s hands are rougher now than they had been, caressing your thigh as you settle back over him. He hums appreciatively. There’s a lull, here, a quiet moment where Jake’s green eyes are more distracting than the attention he’s paying idly to your legs. You catch his tongue flick over his bottom lip and you scoot forward a little bit, your bare ass resting just above his growing erection. He takes the hint, rolling his hips up slightly to make contact. You catch his jaw with one hand, the other idly resting behind his neck as you arch your back to take away the space between your bodies. You kiss him gently, teeth scraping his bottom lip. A hitched breath and another smooth roll of his hips beneath you. Fingers plaiting themselves into the hair at the nape of his neck you pull him into your mouth hard. You feel your teeth press hard into the back of your lips and Jake’s fingernails dig into the meat of your legs and drag down a short span. The pain lights you up in a way you somehow never expect it to. When you pull back to take a breath Jake’s eyes are hungry. He almost growls your name under his breath and it goes straight to your dick. 

His hand trails over your hip again, his hand moving to cup over your dick and you can’t help but rut into him slightly, tilting your pelvis down hard to try and get just a little bit of traction. 

“Ah, ah, dear. We’ll get there.” Your mind swirls as Jake’s fingers slip into your mouth and you can’t help but gently close your lips around them. Your tongue works the space he’s given you tip flicking between the digits to slick them up. You know Jake’s better than to spit lube you, but the dynamic of making you wet that way gets you every time. His free hand claps against your ass hard, stinging and breaking the seal around the fingers in your mouth. Jake makes a hook with his fingers and presses down in the middle of your tongue. Your jaw is slack as he holds your mandible firmly. 

“I want you on your stomach, don’t let anything below your bellybutton touch the bed. Do you understand?”  
You do. Turning away from Jake and not being able to see him is hard. Sometimes you get distracted with just how much you look at him. With your eyes back onto the threadbare rug at the foot of the bed and your chest pressed to the blanket beneath you. You cross your arms as if to brace yourself, you can hear Jake shifting around. The bed dips and then rises. In just a moment Jake’s hands are at your shoulders, trailing up your neck and slowly twining a bandana over your eyes. That’s as far as he goes for anything you’d dare to call borderline kinky in your relationship. You follow his hands from where the bandana is tied carefully at the back of your head to your shoulders. Palm digging in slightly there, he rubs your shoulders gently. The bed dips gently as Jake settles behind you again. His hands find the tuck of your waist, thumbs catching the small of your back as his fingers dig just beyond your hip bones. He rocks you back into him. Oh. Definitely lacking a little bit of clothing there.

There’s a few more seconds of Jake rocking softly against your ass dry before the bed shifts again beneath you. Fingers are cold and slick against your ass in a second, and your breath hitches. 

“Fuck, yes, finally.” You breathe. You’ve earned yourself a shock there, a single digit buried to the knuckle and your body takes it, but not without a choked gasp. You rock back into his hand and he has the audacity to chuckle at you. Mouth twisting, you flatten your chest to the bed, arching your back further than it was already. You thank whatever made you for making you limber enough to move like this. Jake is moving his fingers and- ah fuck yes. A second finger slides in without much effort on your part, it's just enough to make you moan. God you feel like you sound like a shitty pornstar right now. 

Jake’s hand is heavy on the small of your back, pushing down and back gently. You make a conscious effort to arch further and the dull ache of your muscles lets you know you’re pushing the limits of your flexibility. You aren’t worried about over doing it. Jake is gentle enough with you that your limits are safe as can be. 

Taking some extra time to work you open comfortably, you’ve calmed down some. Mouth is suddenly on your back, whiskers drawing a scraggly line up your spine in kisses. You feel his weight shift before he commits to moving. Jake shifts away from you, his fingers leaving you feeling empty and cold as he steps away. You can hear the slight shuffle of his bare feet on the floor. You know what’s coming and your mind still manages to gather a half dozen doubting thoughts. He left you wide open, blindfolded, and left you there. 

His weight on the edge of the bed again sends a wave of comfort through your body you didn’t realize you’d been building up to needing. You can hear the telltale crinkle of a condom wrapper behind you and then the shift of weight as Jake smooths what you can assume is a towel beneath you. Wool blankets are hard to clean, you learned that the hard way. 

“All good?” He checks in with you, a breathy yes and his hands are on you in a second. He pushes you down some and your hands stretch out in front of you. The gentle heat on the back of your thighs as he pushes your knees out just a touch more. Any more and you’ll be dick down on the bed. You keep Jake’s words in mind and are careful not to let yourself fall any lower yet. Jake presses into you gently, your mouth forming a soft o as you gasp out a breathy moan. The fullness and dull ache of a gentle stretch reminding your blood of where it needed to make its way to. Jake settles fully and gives you a second to revel in yourself. It impresses you every time you do this. He’s fully buried in could-be plusher Strider ass. 

In another breath you’re gently tipping your pelvis into him, and his hands cup your hip bones. He rolls against you easily at first, his smooth, careful movements lighting fires throughout your body. As he grows comfortable Jake picks up the pace some. Your fingers dig into the bedding beneath you and you find yourself meeting each stroke. The sound of your skin hitting Jake’s is making you blush, it’s such an obscene sound. You find yourself losing track of your breathing when Jake bumps into you just right. Perfect. 

You find yourself teetering on a knife's edge before you know it, Jake’s heavy breath warm against your skin as your thighs shake, holding yourself up and holding him too. There’s sparks in your vision, and you catch yourself holding your breath and choking back the noises you can’t help but make. Suddenly your vision is white and you’re cumming, Jake’s voice in your ear crooning soft praise and practically purring in your ear. He’s losing his rhythm, and in a few strokes his hips stutter, hands pulling you back onto him. You’re blissed out at this point, stars still scattered in your vision. It’s a heartbeat or a dozen and Jake pulls out of you. 

You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You’re starry eyed and riding the endorphins your orgasm fed you. Sometimes you wish you could feel like this all the time. Jake is tidy, careful to clean himself up and look down at you with a tired, adoring look on his face. You can’t help but feel a little bit guilty. He did all the work here and you’re laying in bed like a pillow princess while Jake tidies himself. You sit up slowly. Nope, fuck that, you’re being a pillow princess, you earned it, you think. You didn’t but it’s a good thought and Jake laughs in the hearty, genuine way that fills your heart with the heavy gold you’ve come to associate with him. You do roll over though, scooting to stay on the tidily folded towel Jake laid down. He’s milling about idly for a moment, his face relaxed and lips curled up in a soft smile. You take a deep breath, and Jake leans down to cup your face from beside the bed. The kiss is chaste and sweet, your lips are sore from the hard and heavy kisses earlier. You feel a little bit gross right now and the wood heated shower is not appealing to your infinite showering habits. 

“I love you.” You say plainly. Jake smiles and it lights up every feeling you’d packed away. You can feel the way it makes your own face turn up into a smile. He kisses you again, lingering for a moment longer than the last. His hands wind themselves under your knees and then your shoulders and he almost effortlessly scoops you up like a bride and sets you carefully on your feet. The hand across your back stays in place to steady you. You let yourself sag into him a little bit. He chuckles softly and his free hand wraps the towel around your waist and lets you stand on your own. 

“Love you too, Dirk. Get yourself cleaned up and get back to bed.” Looks like he’s going to keep it warm for you and leave you standing in the faint light of the wood stove vents. You waddle unappreciatively towards it and idly use the towel to clean yourself up. Gross, this is what showers are for. Plus one for city living, or at least on-grid living.

After a few minutes, your idle task management has yielded a few things. You’re clean enough to consider getting back into bed, and you’ve stoked the fire and crammed a couple more pieces of wood into it. Jake looks like he’s mostly dozed off at this point, and you shut the vents down as low as you dare to try and prolong the time the fire will keep the stove warm. Your knee hits the edge of the bed, and Jake makes a soft noise. You settle against him and catch the soft smile on his lips. A gentle kiss, and burying your face into the curve of his chest. His arms lay gently over you and for once you can feel the weight of sleep pushing at the back of your eyes. You still think that this is a dream sometimes, that you’ll wake up in the morning alone in the apartment over the ocean. 

Wake up Dirk, it’s been 8 years since the accident. You’ve been in a coma with robots somehow keeping you alive. Every inch of you doesn’t want that, but when the days are this good, and you’re buried up to your eyes in the soft, naivety of your boyfriend who’s been through so much with you. Sometimes it just feels too good, like you don’t deserve the breath of happiness on a planet designed to be a safe haven. A part of you knows that things are starting to fall apart, you’ve been burdened with more days and more memories that aren’t yours. Rose has been getting sicker and the others all have their own things. You don’t know if you’re the alpha Dirk anymore, somehow. As if you making up with Jake somehow splintered you off the main flow of things. The real you doesn’t deserve what he’s going through. You thought the game was over now anyways. You shouldn’t be able to feel all the splinters colliding.

Jake’s arm tightens around you, and you take a deep breath. Your fourth day of minutes of sleep isn’t the time to ponder your place in the universe, you guess. For the first time in a long time, you force yourself to lay the thought to rest. Just soak in Jake’s warmth and let the fingers of his hope surround your heart. He’s holding this splinter in place anyways. Holding it until it festers and has to be removed, but holding it all the same. 

Sleep comes, eventually. You dream idly, mapping out how things could be different if things didn’t go exactly the way they did. You don’t sleep well, but sleeping some is better than not at all. You dread knowing that you’ll eventually have to go back to the way things were before. You'll have press conferences and paparazzi and pictures of yourself on every paper when you do decide to go back. For now though, you get to be happy. You get to enjoy the time with Jake you have before the rest of the world drags you back into it tooth and nail. That’s exactly what it will be too, a fight. You aren’t looking forward to whoever comes to try and collect you. It’ll probably be Jane, power suit and all. You try to imagine her in heels hiking from the lake to the cabin. Maybe Roxy and Dave would come along. They’d love it and want to stay the night. Jane would be irritated with the lack of service up here and groan about her lost time on business. Roxy would be doting on the horses and Dave would disappear with a camera until someone felt the need to go find him. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe things weren’t as bad as you remember them being. 

You wake up in awe of the bright optimism Jake has, and the simple routine of life in this cabin. You, Dirk Strider, are going to make the most of this, because who knows how long it will last.


End file.
